


The Very Heart of It

by merryofsoul



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bucky has a dog rescue, Captain America Steve Rogers, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Discussion of PTSD, M/M, Modern Bucky Barnes, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, those tags are important but this fic is also about coffee and dogs and friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:21:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryofsoul/pseuds/merryofsoul
Summary: In which Captain America adopts a dog from Bucky and they become friends — and then more.





	The Very Heart of It

**Author's Note:**

> So, um, I started writing this fic in November of 2017, pretty much abandoned it in Jan/Feb when I got into another fandom, and then it....lingered. I was almost finished with it when I stopped, so I was disappointed in myself for giving up on it. So I started working on it again this past November, and now here it is! You guys don't even realize how much I mean it when I say thank you to tullycat for encouraging me to pick it back up, betaing it even though neither of us are active in this fandom anymore, and for being my friend. 
> 
> **NOTE** : Near the end of the story there is a scene where Bucky has a nightmare which has to do with how he lost his arm. It begins with "Bucky's entire body" and ends with "He's never felt more untethered." This fic has to do with both Bucky and Steve dealing with PTSD, which is discussed throughout the fic, but in this scene in particular there is the nightmare and then a panic attack. If there is anything I should've tagged better, or that I forgot to tag, please let me know. The 'Mature' rating is for the dream scene.
> 
> Also, as you might be able to tell by the 'Modern Bucky Barnes' tag, Bucky was never the Winter Soldier, etc. I pulled some of his backstory from the comics, such as his sister and coming from Indiana.
> 
> Enjoy!

Bucky stands outside the brownstone, looking up at the windows and shading his eyes against the bright morning sun. The door opens as he’s waiting — which is what he’d been hoping would happen — and he watches as a young woman steps out, focused on the phone in her hand. He hops up the steps and catches the outer door before it clicks shut, and then he’s in. 

As he climbs the steps to the third floor, he realizes it’s creepy that he got past the buzzers at the door that are there for a reason, but he can’t get Sam’s worried voice out of his head from their phone call this morning. The least he can do is check up on Sam’s friend and make sure he’s okay.

There’s movement behind the door almost immediately after Bucky knocks, so he knows Steve is alive in there somewhere. Bucky flicks his shades up to the top of his head and hums a little as he waits. It’s been a few hours since his morning coffee, and he could definitely go for some more after he talks to Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says when he answers the door. There’s a crease between his eyebrows and dark circles under his eyes. “Are you at the right apartment?”

Bucky can see why he might say that. Becca always calls his style “hipster,” which Bucky fucking hates, but he’s not going to change the way he’s always dressed. But from the worn combat boots, to the messy hair and beard combo, Bucky can see why people might think that. 

Sam’s friend, however, is a blue-eyed, heartthrob blond, who looks like he’s never thought about growing a beard in his life.

“Hey man,” Bucky says. “Steve, right?”

Steve’s face darkens, the friendly half-smile dropping off of his face, a bland mask taking its place.

“I think you should go,” Steve says, starting to close his door in Bucky’s face. Bucky reaches out to stop it in place, surprised at the resistance he finds. Steve also looks surprised, like he didn’t think Bucky would be able to do that. His gaze flicks from Bucky’s bionic arm to his face, but Bucky doesn’t balk at the scrutinization. He’s used to people staring at his arm and making assumptions, but that isn’t pity he sees on Steve’s face — it’s an assessing look, like he’s sizing up what type of opponent Bucky might be.

Bucky surreptitiously shifts his weight, ready to hold his own if Steve decides that Bucky would make a good sparring partner this morning. Sam didn’t warn him that he might be walking into a dangerous situation. Bucky is going to have words for him later.

“Sam sent me,” Bucky says slowly. He takes his hand off the door and lets both his arms hang at his side, showing Steve he doesn’t mean any harm. Steve’s shoulders loosen at the mention of Sam, and he doesn’t slam his door in Bucky’s face, so Bucky takes that as a cue to keep talking. “He couldn’t get a hold of you this morning and was worried, so he asked me to stop by and see if everything was alright.”

“I’m fine,” Steve says quickly, and a tad too cheerful for Bucky’s liking. Steve seems to realize this and flashes Bucky a rueful smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I probably just forgot to plug my phone in, but I’ll do that now and call Sam back.”

“Okay,” Bucky says slowly. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” Steve replies. “It was nice to meet you…” He trails off, holding a hand out for Bucky to shake. 

“Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you, Bucky,” Steve says, shaking Bucky’s hand firmly. Thanks for stopping by.”

He lets go of Bucky’s hand, flashes him another fakeass smile, and shuts the door, leaving Bucky standing there feeling like an idiot. 

“Oh man,” Bucky mutters to himself as he starts for the stairwell. It’s as bad as Sam thought it was. He’s pulling out his phone to shoot Sam a text when he hears the door open again.

“Bucky?” Steve calls down the hall. Bucky turns immediately, surprised to see Steve standing in his doorway. “Do you want some coffee?”

*

“I didn’t mean to be such an ass,” Steve says for about the tenth time. “You came all this way as a favor to Sam and I wouldn’t even let you through the door.”

“Dude, we’re like four blocks from my place,” Bucky says. “It’s not a big deal at all.” Bucky watches as Steve pours Bucky a cup of coffee. His hands are steady and large around the handle of the French press he’s using. If anyone in this apartment is a hipster, it’s the coffee snob. 

“Do you take anything in your coffee?” Steve asks from the kitchen. 

“Nah,” Bucky says. Steve brings Bucky’s mug over to the breakfast nook and sets it down in front of him. “Thank you.”

“Are you hungry?” Steve asks as he returns to the kitchen and opens the fridge. He pulls out a carton of eggs and some bacon. 

“I’m okay,” Bucky replies. 

“Are you sure? I’m making it anyway.” Bucky hesitates, because he did skip his breakfast to come check on Steve, but before he can answer one way or another, his stomach growls very audibly. Steve grins — the first real grin Bucky has seen on him — and starts cooking enough breakfast for two.

They fall into a companionable silence while Steve cooks and Bucky sips his coffee. Bucky sends off a text to Sam to let him know that he’s talked to Steve and that things seem okay for now, though not perfect.

“My mom would’ve twisted my ears if she saw how I’d treated you,” Steve says out of nowhere. Bucky clicks his phone back off and shrugs when Steve looks over at him.

“I get it. I went through the same sort of shit,” Bucky says, and then corrects himself. “Still go through it. Sometimes you just don’t wanna see anybody, but most times it does help to talk.”

“I thought you were...someone else,” Steve says, looking sheepish. He keeps shooting Bucky these weird looks, like he’s not sure what to do make of him. Bucky lets him look his fill, knowing he makes a confusing picture. He lets his eyes wander around the apartment instead of watching Steve watch him. 

There’s a collection of plants by the window, mostly succulents and a bonsai. A blanket thrown haphazardly across the back of the couch gives Bucky a clue as to where Steve had been lounging before he knocked, as does the newspaper tossed on the coffee table. Bucky can see the edge of a smartphone peeking out from underneath the newspaper, lying facedown on the coffee table. It seems to Bucky like Steve was straight up ignoring his phone rather than it being dead like he claimed.

“Here you go,” Steve says as he sets a plate in front of Bucky and settles into the seat across from him. Their plates are laden with scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. Steve’s even added a handful of grapes, and Bucky almost groans as looks it over. His breakfasts almost always consists of just coffee, with the addition of toast or cereal if he’s feeling adventurous. The only time he takes time to cook a real breakfast is when he has company over or his family is visiting. 

“Thank you for this,” Bucky says as he picks up his fork. “This looks amazing.”

“Let’s see if you say that after you taste it,” Steve says with a teasing grin. It is as good as it looks, which doesn’t surprise Bucky at all. They talk about Sam as they eat and learn that they both met Sam at VA meetings down in D.C., though spaced a few years apart. Sam texts Bucky back as they’re finishing eating. If it was anyone else, Bucky would’ve waited to see what it said, but since he’s here at Sam’s request, he feels fine reading the text in front of Steve.

_Tell that stubborn ass to call me back._

A second later another text comes in.

_And thank you for checking on him. I really appreciate it._

_No problem_ , Bucky replies. He looks up at Steve with a grin.

“Sam wants you to give him a call.”

Steve presses his lips together. “I will after I clean up.”

“I’ll clean up,” Bucky says, standing and taking both plates before Steve can protest. He opens his mouth to try, and Bucky cuts him off. “You cooked, I’ll clean.”

“Fine,” Steve replies, looking disgruntled. Bucky tries not to listen as Steve goes to get his phone — not dead at all, like Bucky suspected — but Steve doesn’t make a move to go into the bedroom for privacy. Bucky runs the water to lessen the chance of hearing Steve’s side of the conversation. The pans are surprisingly easy to clean, and the plates are white and scratch free. In fact, everything in the kitchen looks like it just came out of a showroom. 

Bucky frowns and feels a twinge of pity for the guy. Bucky is also living the bachelor lifestyle, but he cooks dinner for himself almost every night, and every pot and pan he owns has some sort of stain or tarnish on it from his cooking misadventures. 

Steve and Sam’s conversation finishes up just as Bucky is putting the last fork in the drainboard. Steve comes to lean back against the counter, fiddling with his phone in his hand before shoving it deep in the pocket of his sweatpants and tossing Bucky a towel to dry his hands. 

“Sam says he owes you,” Steve says.

“I owe Sam more than I’ll ever be able to repay,” Bucky replies, folding up the towel and handing it back to Steve. “Not that he’ll admit that.”

“Never,” Steve agrees. 

Bucky’s phone chimes from the table, and he looks at the clock in Steve’s kitchen and realizes he’s late. He doesn’t technically work on the weekends, but he told Darcy he’d come in to help set up for the event in the park tomorrow. When he picks up his phone, there’s a text asking where he is, and if he can bring donuts. 

Bucky looks up to tell Steve he has to leave, but Steve’s phone is ringing in his pocket, and he pulls it out with an apologetic frown in Bucky’s direction. Bucky waves it away and watches as Steve takes this call all the way to the bedroom, and Bucky is left feeling a little lost. He can’t stick around any longer, but he doesn’t want to just leave like an asshole. He compromises by pulling a flyer for tomorrow’s event out of his pocket and scribbles a note on the back. He folds it and props it up on the table where Steve will see it, and then lets himself out of the apartment. 

*

“Holy mama,” Darcy mutters through the open door to the storeroom. “That’s fucking Captain America.”

Bucky pauses in moving bags of dog food from the pallet to the shelves, rolls his eyes, and continues working. Darcy has a long history of seeing things that aren’t there, even before aliens invaded New York. Bucky has a rotating schedule of local students who work at the shelter, but Darcy has been around the longest, staying on even as after she started graduate school. 

“Darcy, do you need to go home and get some sleep?” Bucky asks. It’s a rainy day, and not many people want to brave the frigid downpour to come see the dogs, so he can definitely afford to let Darcy off early if it means she’ll stop hallucinating. 

“Dude, I’m not kidding,” Darcy hisses. She drops her book on the counter and actually comes to the doorway, eyes wide. “It’s him.”

She stares at Bucky impatiently until he sighs and walks over, wiping his hands on his jeans. He peeks around the doorway and sees a man crouched in front of one of the cages, quietly talking to the dog within. He’s got a baseball hat on, and a hood pulled up over that, so Bucky asks Darcy, “How can you even tell?”

“I saw his face when he came in,” Darcy replies. She holds out her phone with a picture of Captain America pulled up, and Bucky reluctantly takes it from her. It takes him a minute to realize he’s looking at a picture of Steve — as in Sam’s friend, Steve — and he abruptly feels like an idiot.

“Oh,” he says.

“Yeah, oh,” Darcy replies, not understanding Bucky’s meaning. She sighs wistfully. “Look at him.”

Bucky takes another look at the man crouched by the cages, waiting for him to turn his face and confirm Darcy’s suspicions. After a few seconds, he realizes how creepy it would look if the man they think is Captain America looks up and sees the two of them staring at him intently. He approaches the man before he can change his mind, and Darcy lets out a strangled noise behind him.

“Can I help you with something?” Bucky asks the man, who looks up at Bucky and is definitely Steve, and also definitely Captain America.

“Hey, Bucky.”

“Holy shit,” Bucky says, forgetting to be nervous when he sees he state of Steve’s face. “You look terrible.”

Steve grimaces. He has a black eye and bruising all down the left side of his face. It makes Bucky a little nauseous to look at him, because Steve has the super soldier serum in his veins and enhanced healing and he still looks like this? It must’ve been a pretty nasty fight. 

“You should see the other guy,” Steve jokes, and Bucky laughs despite himself. 

“Are you okay?”

Steve blinks, as if he’s startled anyone has actually asked him that. Bucky feels an unexpected flicker of rage in his stomach. 

“I’m fine,” Steve replies, though he looks anything but. He looks back to the cage and smiles at the dog inside. 

“Are you here for a dog?” Bucky asks. He crouches down beside Steve and pokes his fingers through the cage. The dog inside is one of their newest rescues, only recently given a clean bill of health. He doesn’t have a name yet, but he’s looking at Steve like he’s hoping he’ll be the one to take him home and give him one. Darcy had jokingly written on his card, ‘A Dog Has No Name.’

“I’m not sure it would be a great idea with my schedule,” Steve admits. He looks from the dog to Bucky. “I actually came to see if you could talk, but if you’re busy…”

“I can definitely talk,” Bucky says. He stands and gestures for Steve to follow him. Darcy widens her eyes at him as he leads Steve past the counter and into the storeroom. Bucky can’t really believe it either. Not only did Captain America come to his dog rescue, he came specifically to talk to Bucky. 

He leads Steve into the break room, far enough from Darcy that Steve won’t feel weird talking about whatever is on his mind. Bucky flips the coffee maker on and watches as Steve settles himself gingerly into one of the plastic chairs at the table. 

“What happened to you?” Bucky asks. 

“I’m not supposed to talk about it,” Steve says apologetically. 

“Right, sorry,” Bucky says. “Classified Avengers business, I get it.”

Steve ducks his head, pushing his hood back off his head and taking his hat off. Bucky gets a better look at his bruises and they look worse than he thought, not only on Steve’s face, but ringing around his neck as well.

“Sorry,” Steve mutters. 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Bucky replies. “I know all about classified missions.” Steve nods, but doesn’t look up. “I just can’t believe Sam knows an Avenger and didn’t tell me.”

“We asked him to keep it quiet,” Steve admits, finally looking back up and leaning back in his chair. 

Bucky thinks about that as he rummages through the fridge for the lunch he brought from home. Steve looks like he could eat something, and Bucky doesn’t mind giving up half of his hero. 

“We,” Bucky repeats, and straightens to look at Steve. “He knows more than one of you?”

Steve stares at Bucky, and Bucky thinks it’s a good thing that Steve probably doesn’t do much undercover work, because he has a terrible poker face. 

“Has he not talked to you about this?” Steve asks, clearly stalling.

Bucky shakes his head. “No, we only talk occasionally,” he says. “He’s always busy with work and he’s been going on a lot of trips lately…” Bucky trails off and stares hard at the sandwich in his hand. “I get that it’s classified and all, but if Sam is also an Avenger, just let me know if I need to go and kick his ass for keeping it a secret.”

Steve is silent, and then he says, “You might want to brush up on your training, because Sam is definitely up to snuff.”

“Son of a bitch,” Bucky grumbles, turning to the small counter and unwrapping his lunch. He splits it between two paper plates from the cabinet and hands Steve a plate, along with a mug of the fresh coffee.

“Oh you don’t have to share your lunch with me,” Steve protests, trying to hand the plate back to Bucky. Bucky ignores him and settles into his own seat. 

“You look like you haven’t slept or eaten in days,” Bucky says. Steve makes one last attempt to slide the sandwich over, and Bucky says sternly, “Steve. Eat it.”

“I thought you knew who I was the day we met,” Steve says after he finally takes a bite of the hero and swallows. “I thought you’d gotten into the building somehow and was trying to get a quote or something.”

“Do I really look like a reporter?” Bucky asks. Steve grins and shakes his head. The smile makes him look a little less dead, but it’s still painful to look at the bruises. 

“Pepper tells us to never be too careful,” Steve replies. “But when you said you knew Sam, I realized I was wrong.”

“Don’t the other Avengers live around here?” Bucky asks. “Why did Sam ask me to check on you?”

“We were on a sort of mandatory leave,” Steve explains. “The mission hadn’t...ended well. Everyone scattered to deal with it, and I guess I was the only one who stayed in New York, and I wasn’t—” He cuts himself off with a sharp sigh.

“You weren’t dealing with it,” Bucky finishes. Steve looks up from the remains of his hero. 

“No,” he says. “I wasn’t.”

“And the call you got? Was that another mission?” Bucky feels like he’s prying, but Steve doesn’t seem to mind at all.

“It was,” Steve replies. 

He falls silent, and Bucky gets a moment to study him. It seems like he’s just gotten back from a mission. Whether it’s the mission that he got called out on a few weeks ago when Bucky was at his apartment, or another one he jumped into right after that, Bucky doesn’t know. But whatever it is, it looks like Steve is barely hanging on by a thread. No wonder Sam is worried about him.

Bucky wants to suggest that Steve lay down somewhere and take a nap, or maybe take a fucking break from these missions, but he’s not sure how that would come across. This is only the second time he’s talked to the guy, after all. 

“Sorry the coffee isn’t fancy,” he says instead, trying to steer the conversation away from stuff that Steve clearly doesn’t want to be talking about. Steve huffs out a laugh and rolls his eyes.

“Tony gave that to me, and I feel bad not using it.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky says. “Sure.”

The conversation moves from coffee to bagels to the best way to get somewhere, each sure they have the quicker route. Bucky loses track of time. It should be weird, he thinks, to be talking to a national icon and a fucking Avenger like he would any other friend, but it’s not. Bucky’s no counselor, but it seems like Steve needs to talk about the normal things in life. 

Steve’s phone beeps, interrupting their discussion of street vendor hot dogs, and Bucky sees something in Steve’s eyes shutter before he even checks his phone. He wonders if anyone ever calls or texts Steve about anything other than work.

“Getting called out?” Bucky asks, gathering their lunch debris and tossing it in the trash can.

“No,” Steve replies. “But I do have to get to headquarters for a debrief.”

Bucky walks with Steve back to the front of the building. 

“Put an ice pack or something on your face, yeah?” Bucky says to Steve. “It hurts to look at you.”

“I will,” Steve replies. “Thanks, Bucky.” For the lunch or the talk, he doesn’t specify, but Bucky nods anyway. Steve sways forward, and Bucky has a brief second to hysterically think, _Holy shit, Captain America is going to hug me,_ but Steve stops himself and nods at Bucky instead. He turns to leave, but makes sure to stop at the same dog’s kennel to poke his fingers through and say goodbye. Then he’s standing, replacing his hat and hood, and walking out the door.

“I can’t believe you also know an Avenger,” Darcy says as they watch Steve walk through the rain.

“What do you mean, ‘also?’”

*

_You’re a dick._

_Okay I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you but now I get to send you this:_

Bucky looks at the attached photo, which is Sam in his full EXO-7 flight suit that he’d shown Bucky pictures of before, but it looks more badass now. Sam is standing next to Thor, and they’re both flashing the camera a peace sign in a selfie. Bucky rolls his eyes and throws his phone to the side.

*

For every person that packs themselves into the already full subway car, the more uncomfortable Bucky feels. He’s starting to sweat and he can feel the anxiety pressing down on him, and he needs to get out of here as soon as possible. It’s more stops that he normally justifies walking, but he welcomes the prospect of the walk today.

His phone vibrates in his pocket when he gets streetside, and he answers Darcy’s call while simultaneously dodging a jogger who almost runs him over.

“What’s up, Darce?” Bucky asks. “Everything go okay today?”

“Captain America just left,” Darcy reports. “I think he was probably looking for you, but he left with a dog, so there’s a win.”

“Really?” Bucky is surprised and also very happy. Having another living soul around will be good for Steve. “Who’d he pick?”

“No Name,” Darcy says. “He said he’d let us know what name he actually settles on.”

Bucky smiles, knowing that dog and Steve chose each other the moment they met. 

“That’s great,” Bucky says. “Thanks for calling me.”

They chat a little bit more about work, Darcy compliments Steve’s eyes and ass until Bucky laughs and tells her to cut it out, and Bucky is practically at his door by the time they’re about to hang up.

“Oh, by the way,” Darcy says, trying for nonchalant, but completely missing. “I gave Steve your address. You’re welcome. Bye!”

Darcy hangs up without waiting for Bucky to respond, and when he rounds the corner to his street, he sees Steve sitting on the steps to his building, the dog waiting patiently at his feet. Steve doesn’t see Bucky approaching, so he gets to hear what Steve is saying to the dog.

“We should probably just go, right? He’s been working all day and won’t want company.”

“Depends on the company,” Bucky says. He crouches down to greet the dog. “You can definitely come up,” Bucky says. “Maybe Steve too. What do you think?” The dog’s tongue lolls out of his mouth and Bucky nods in agreement. 

“He says you’re cool,” Bucky says to Steve as stands. Steve rolls his eyes and grins as he stands too. His bruising is gone, and he looks like he’s actually slept this week, and Bucky can’t help staring a little bit.

“I hope this isn’t weird,” Steve says. “Darcy told me where you lived, and I thought you might want to see Dodger before I took him home.”

“What, like I’d never see you again?” Bucky asks. “You can’t let me in on the Avengers secret and then try to ghost me, Steve.”

“I wasn’t assuming anything,” Steve says with a shrug.

Bucky nods toward the door. “So, you wanna come up?”

Steve nods, following close behind and holding the doors for Bucky when he fumbles with his keys.

“So, Dodger,” Bucky says with a smile. “As in, the Brooklyn Dodgers?”

“Of course,” Steve replies. He waits until Bucky’s apartment door is firmly shut before unclipping Dodger’s leash. With the newfound freedom, Dodger goes to explore, tail wagging faster than Bucky has ever seen.

“You hungry?” Bucky asks as he strips out of his coat. He bumps the heat up a little now that he’s home and has guests. The little voice in the back of his head wonders if Steve is always cold, and makes a mental note to never ask him.

“You don’t—”

“Yes or no, Steve,” Bucky interrupts. 

“Yes,” Steve admits, looking embarrassed.

“Good, because I usually make enough for four, and then have leftovers all week,” Bucky says as he walks down the short hallway to his bedroom. “I even have some leftover steak for Dodger if he doesn’t pee on anything of mine.”

He changes into comfortable sweats and warmer socks, but forgoes the sweatshirt. It’s still chilly in his apartment, but he doesn’t want to be dragging any of his sleeves through sauce, and he always gets warm when he’s cooking.

Steve’s eyes shoot straight to Bucky’s uncovered arm when he steps back into the living room, and then snap back up to Bucky’s face with the guiltiest look imaginable.

“It’s alright,” Bucky says, coming to a stop next to the armchair where Steve’s sitting. Dodger is curled at his feet, apparently finished with exploring for now. Bucky turns his arm and rests it palm up on the arm next to Steve so he can get a better look. “It’s Stark Industries tech actually. Stronger than my other arm, but it doesn’t have a repulsor in the palm or any hidden guns.”

Bucky is expecting all sorts of questions. _How did it happen? Is it heavy? Can you feel anything?_ And his least favorite. _Did it hurt?_ Of course it fucking hurt. He lost an arm and his body had to adjust to having a metal implant. Steve doesn’t ask any questions though.

“I’m sorry for staring,” Steve says.

“I’m used to it. It catches the light,” Bucky replies. “Plus, it looks cool as hell.”

That, at least, makes Seve crack a smile. Bucky moves on to the kitchen and starts pulling out ingredients for spaghetti sauce. Steve follows and stops in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. Steve’s arms look like they’re practically waiting for the chance to burst out of his sweater, and Bucky tries not to stare. It’s not like he didn’t notice that Steve was unfairly attractive when they first met, but Bucky thinks that the last thing Steve needs right now is another person fawning over him.

“Need help with anything?” Steve asks.

Bucky starts to tell him no, but then he stops to think about it.

“Does being a super soldier mean you won’t cry if you cut onions?”

Steve looks stumped. “I actually have no idea.”

Bucky points to the cutting board and onion he’d already pulled out. “Get to chopping then. Let’s see what happens.”

As it turns out, the super soldier serum does not prevent onion tears.

*

For a while, the only news Bucky gets that Steve and Sam — because apparently now he has to worry about Sam’s safety as well — are alive is from the news coverage of the Avengers battles. He tries not to stress about it, because his friends are adults and highly trained and can handle themselves, but he doesn’t always succeed. More than a few times he finds himself wishing he was out there with them, even though he left that part of his life behind a long time ago.

It’s a rare sunny day, so he’s taking some of the dogs out for a walk in the park when he runs straight into someone who’s not watching where he’s going. 

“Hey—” Bucky starts, and then realizes who he’s looking at. “I know you.”

Thor grins brightly at him. “I love Earth. No matter how long I’m gone, you people never forget me.”

Bucky squints at him and then rolls his eyes. “I mean, like I know Steve and Sam.” Thor’s eyes brighten at the mention of Bucky’s friends, and practically shine when Bucky adds, “and Darcy.”

“How is the small warrior?”

“You can see for yourself,” Bucky says as he keeps walking. “I’m headed there now.”

“Does she still have her handheld lightning?” Thor asks.

“Handheld…” Bucky snorts, remembering the story Darcy had told him. “Her Taser. No. TSA confiscated it and she hasn’t gotten a new one yet.”

“The perfect gift for Yule, then,” Thor says. Bucky shakes his head in disbelief. Not only did another Avenger drop in out of nowhere, but he’s talking about buying Darcy a holiday present. If and when Bucky is ever allowed to update Becca on all of this, she’s going to lose her mind.

Darcy shrieks and practically throws herself at Thor when she sees him. Thor seemed to have seen this coming and catches her with ease. Their conversation devolves into something that Bucky has no chance of following, and after he’s put all of the dogs back in their kennels, he rounds up a new group and shoves the leashes into Darcy and Thor’s hands. They leave, still chattering away, and the silence they leave behind is music to Bucky’s ears.

He gets all of the dogs fresh water, sweeps the floor and mops, and then even goes as far as to replace the flickering light bulb in the employee bathroom. 

Thor visiting means whatever Avengers mission they were called away on has ended. Bucky wants to call Steve, but he feels weird about it. It’s not like they’ve kept in constant contact since they’ve met, but Bucky can’t help but wonder how he’s doing. He chickens out and calls Sam instead, and tries not to feel too bad about it. Of course he wants to see how Sam is doing too.

“Hey man,” Sam says as he answers. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine,” Bucky replies. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re usually a text once a month kinda guy,” Sam says. “It’s just surprising to be getting a call from you.”

“Just wanted to see how everything went,” Bucky says. “Thor just came by to see Darcy.”

“Everything’s fine,” Sam replies. “I’m fine, Steve is fine. I’d go through the whole list, but I think we know what you’re really asking.”

Bucky grumbles but doesn’t dignify that with a response. 

“Well, if you’re tired of being an asshole, are you going to have time to hang out with your boring old civilian friend before you head back to D.C.?”

“I think I can fit that into my schedule,” Sam replies.

“Asshole,” Bucky replies fondly, and hangs up before Sam can get the last word in.

*

Bucky goes home for Thanksgiving, eats a whole hell of a lot of good food, and is badgered by his family about his non-existent love life. So, a typical Barnes family gathering.

He doesn’t breathe a word about to Steve to anybody, especially Becca, because even if he just said a half-truth of ‘Hey, Captain America adopted a dog from my rescue,’ Becca would somehow get the rest of it — the sharing meals and cooking for him and the possibility of growing feelings — out of Bucky in less than an hour.

He hears from Sam on Thanksgiving, but doesn’t hear anything from Steve. Not that he was expecting anything exactly, so he doesn’t know why he feels disappointed. He wonders what Steve did for the holiday, but the question is answered when Sam texts again later on and sends him a picture of the two of them handing out meals at a shelter not far from where he and Bucky live. There are a few other people in the picture that Bucky doesn’t know, but vaguely recognizes as Avengers.

Steve looks happy in the picture, and Bucky feels an unfamiliar flutter in his chest the longer he looks at the it. Unfamiliar, because it’s been a hell of a long time since he felt anything like what he’s feeling now — since before his second deployment, in fact — and it’s not something he thought he’d ever feel again.

It’s not like Bucky came back from the Middle East and decided he didn’t want anything to do with romance. It just hasn’t happened for him, and he’s fine with that. 

That is, until he went and developed a schoolboy crush on Captain America.

_I barely know him,_ Bucky thinks, shaking his head at himself. Becca, tucked into the armchair across from him and playing on her phone, narrows suspicious eyes at him.

“Darcy’s beating me at Words with Friends,” Bucky says, tapping on the app so he’s not lying. Darcy is beating him, like always, and it drives Bucky crazy. 

“No one plays that anymore,” Becca replies, rolling her eyes and thankfully not seeing past Bucky’s bullshit. She loses interest in him after that, and Bucky actually does take his turn on the game before going back to the picture Sam sent.

He’s the only one that has to know he’s pathetic.

*

The week after Thanksgiving is emotionally fulfilling, but extremely exhausting for Bucky. Not long after his flight lands, Darcy is calling him with an emergency pick up for a litter of Golden Retriever puppies left on the side of the highway. They save them all from freezing to death, but not long after one of them goes into surgery to see if the vet can save both of his infected eyes, Bucky has to make a trip out to Long Island to deliver a new group of dogs to train as service dogs for veterans. 

It’s a week full of making room for all of the puppies in the rescue, taking applications from parents who think they want to adopt a dog for their kid for Christmas, but ‘they’re just not quite sure yet’, and dealing with it all while Darcy and the rest of his employees are in full-on finals mode. One day Bucky is going to hire someone who isn’t also a student.

The puppy who had surgery on his eyes — and only lost one of them, thank god — needs to be nursed back to health and kept under close watch, so Bucky has him at the apartment to keep a closer eye on him. He’s just a baby, so of course he has accidents, but if Bucky has to clean up one more puddle of pee tonight he’s going to lose his mind. He just wants to sleep uninterrupted for a few days, and then he’ll feel better.

He’s trudging up the stairs from the basement after setting another load of pee-rags going in the wash, and sees Mrs. Lee directing a Christmas tree twice her height through the entryway. As Bucky gets closer, he sees a pair of jeans and boots sticking out from the other side of the tree.

“Watch the branches!” Mrs. Lee calls out. Bucky hears a familiar chuckle, and then Steve’s voice saying, “Mrs. Lee, I can’t _see_ anything.”

Mrs. Lee huffs and puts her hands on her hips, and then sees Bucky watching the spectacle.

“James! Help Steven with my tree, if you would be so kind,” Mrs. Lee asks. “And mind the branches.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replies, stepping up to help and grabbing it with his metal hand, being careful of the branches under Mrs. Lee’s watchful gaze. Steve’s head pops up over the tree at the sound of Bucky’s voice, and Bucky grins at him.

“Steven,” Bucky says conversationally. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“This is my part-time job, James,” Steve replies. Bucky makes a face at him and Steve snorts out a laugh.

“Helping little old ladies,” Bucky says. “Of course it is.”

Between the two of them, they get the tree into Mrs. Lee’s apartment in no time, even with Dodger dancing around their feet. Steve, being the taller of the two of them, gets appointed the job of judging if the tree is sitting straight in its stand, while Bucky has to get down on his hands and knees to twist the spokes into the trunk.

Mrs. Lee is finally satisfied with the angle of the tree, and Bucky disentangles himself from the trees lower branches and stands, pulling down his shirt that had ridden up in the process. When he reaches up to brush pine needles out of his hair, he can see Steve watching him out of the corner of his eye. He wonders if Steve was looking at his ass as he fixed the tree. He knows he would’ve done the same if it’d been Steve down there, and he would’ve only felt a little guilty about it.

“Like what you see?” Bucky jokes, and then can’t believe what just came out of his mouth. He knows Mrs. Lee is cool, she has a gay grandson that she’s tried to set Bucky up with numerous times, but he realizes that this is something that’s never come up with Steve. A sudden shot of nerves makes his stomach roll while he simultaneously freaks out about flirting with a national icon and how he might react to it.

Steve _smiles_ and Bucky’s heart just about leaps out of his chest, and then Steve says, “You still have pine needles in your hair.”

It’s not a confirmation of _anything_ , it’s just Steve not being an asshole, which Bucky already knew about him, but it lifts Bucky’s hopes just a little bit more. 

They’re halfway up the stairs to Bucky’s apartment before Bucky realizes that Steve wasn’t just here to help Mrs. Lee with her Christmas tree, but to see Bucky. That realization has him smiling even as he opens his apartment door to see the puppy chewing through the cords to his headphones.

“Goddamnit,” Bucky says with a sigh. He pulls the ruined cords away from the puppy and checks his mouth for stray pieces before sitting back on his heels with a sigh. Dodger inserts himself in the space to say hello to the puppy, and knocks Bucky off balance. Steve is close enough to reach out and steady Bucky, hand curling around his metal shoulder to keep him from falling back on his ass.

He keeps his hand on Bucky for a second longer, but drops it when Bucky stands up.

“What happened to him?” Steve asks, looking at the puppy and his bandaged eye with concern.

“Severe eye infection,” Bucky explains. “We found them on the side of the LIE. Once he’s feeling better he’ll go to the rescue with his littermates, and hopefully someone will adopt him.”

“That’s horrible,” Steve replies.

“Yeah.” Bucky sighs, feeling as if the entire, exhausting week is catching up with him all at once. He’s happy Steve is here, but at the same time, all he wants to do is plop down on his couch and watch TV until he falls asleep.

“You alright?” Steve asks, starling Bucky out of his thoughts.

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, knowing his smile looks tired but it’s not like he can help it. “Just a long week, you know?”

Steve nods, and then Bucky feels like a massive idiot.

“Can you just forget I said that?” Bucky asks. “Here I am complaining about being tired and you save our asses every other month. It doesn’t really compare.”

“Don’t.” Steve cuts him off with a shake of his head. “Don’t do that. Just because my job is a little more high risk than yours doesn’t mean you can’t talk about your bad weeks with me.”

“A little more,” Bucky repeats. “Understatement of the year.”

“Please, Buck,” Steve says. “You’re my friend, and I don’t want you to not talk to me about things because you think it’s trivial. I like talking to you. You treat me like I’m Steve before I’m Captain America.”

Bucky’s not sure if it’s the nickname, or the honesty in Steve’s voice, but he nods in agreement.

“Fine, I’ll text you every time this puppy here pees on me and I need to bitch about it. Deal?”

Steve grins. “If he throws up, I think that may even warrant a call.”

Bucky thought he wanted to be alone, but when Steve tries to leave to let him rest, the sudden pang of disappointment surprises Bucky in its intensity. He convinces Steve to stay and watch a movie, and at Steve’s request, shows him where things are in the kitchen.

He falls asleep after a mug of hot chocolate made from Sarah Rogers’s recipe, while watching one of the many movies Steve hasn’t seen, and wrapped up in the blanket Becca made for him last Christmas. He wakes up feeling better than he has in weeks, and though Steve and Dodger are long gone, there’s a folded note from Steve on his coffee table.

_For when you need to bitch,_ Steve has written, and included his phone number. Bucky’s glee about Captain America actually writing out the word ‘bitch’ is only surpassed by the fact that Steve has given Bucky his number. 

*

There’s an incident a few days later when the puppy trips Bucky up in the kitchen and a bag of flour ends up all over the floor — and mostly on the puppy. Once Bucky is done laughing so hard he cries, he takes a picture of the biggest puppy eyes he’s ever seen, and texts the picture to Steve.

Steve replies with a picture of Dodger with a half-chewed shoe in his mouth, not looking remorseful at all. Another few texts come in not long after.

_Clint says that’s the cutest dog he’s ever seen._

_He’s mad I misquoted him. He said, “That’s the cutest fucking dog I’ve ever seen.”_

The puppy, who has been snoozing on Bucky’s lap, wakes up when he laughs out loud.

*

“What the hell are you eating?”

Bucky, once again doing all of the heavy lifting in the storeroom, raises his eyebrows at Darcy’s tone of voice with a stranger. 

“Edible cookie dough,” a man responds. “It’s good shit.”

Bucky heaves the bag in his arms onto the shelf in front of him and flexes his metal hand. It’s been stiff lately, which he supposes was bound to happen eventually. It’s been a few years since he got it, and even the most advanced prosthetic in the world can’t stay in perfect condition forever. Putting it aside to worry about later, he turns to the doorway when he hears someone walk in.

“You need a haircut, man,” Sam says as he lounges in the doorway of the storeroom.

“You need to shave,” Bucky replies, striding up to Sam to pull him into a hug.

“Why have I seen more of your friends than I’ve seen of you lately?” Bucky asks. “If you’re going to be in New York this often, I expect to see your ugly face occasionally.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam says, slapping Bucky on the back. “You’re still a hermit, so don’t pretend you want my company every weekend.”

“I know whose company he wants though,” Darcy mutters. The unidentified blond man with the cup of cookie dough looks delighted, and reaches out to her for a fistbump. 

“I see why Thor loves you,” the man says, and Darcy preens. 

“Bucky, Darcy, this is Clint,” Sam introduces.

Clint’s gaze zeroes in on Bucky. He looks unassuming in well-loved jeans and the thin wires of hearing aids running over his ears, but Bucky knows better than to underestimate anyone. There’s something in the man’s sharp gaze and the way he holds himself that lets Bucky know that this is a man he wouldn’t want to cross.

“The famous Bucky,” Clint drawls. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”

Bucky throws an elbow at Sam, which he dodges easily. “What have you been telling them?”

“That you’re a grumpy asshole,” Sam replies easily.

“Not from him,” Clint says, and lets the implication hang as he goes to look at the dogs. Sam winks at Bucky before joining Clint, leaving Darcy to snicker at Bucky while he reels at this information.

Steve’s been talking about him? To someone other than Sam?

“Is this a midlife crisis?” Sam asks as he crouches in front of a kennel with Clint. It’s the puppy with the missing eye that Bucky helped nurse back to health. All of his littermates had gone quickly, because it’s the holidays and adorable puppies are the first to get adopted, but a dog missing an eye isn’t anyone’s first choice.

“No, my midlife crisis was coming out of retirement,” Clint replies, grinning at the puppy through the bars.

“Phil’s gonna just love this,” Sam says sarcastically.

“Phil loves me, and I love this little dude, so Phil will love him too.”

“Not sure that’s how it’s gonna work,” Sam mutters, but steps aside as Bucky comes up to unlock the cage. The puppy bounds straight for Clint, tumbling into his lap and panting up at his face.

“You got lucky, didn’t you?” Clint murmurs, pushing his fingers into the puppy’s fur and letting him drool all over his arm. 

“How many Avengers do you think I can get to adopt a dog?” Bucky murmurs to Sam.

“It’s a fluke,” Sam says. “You got the two biggest-hearted of them.”

Bucky nudges Sam gently. “If I’m singling out the big hearts of the team, you’re next, buddy.”

Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky can tell he’s pleased.

“Steve was going to come,” Sam says quietly. “He was supposed to be around all weekend, but he got called down to D.C.”

Bucky shrugs, and Sam gives him a knowing look. 

“He’ll be back next week,” Sam says, undeterred by Bucky pretending he doesn’t care.

“Do you want to get a beer this weekend?” Bucky interrupts to ask, and Sam’s responding laughter makes the dogs around them bark excitedly.

*

Bucky pushes the door open to the bar and hits a wall of noise. He scans the crowded room and he and Sam spot each other at the same time.

“Yo, Buck!” Sam raises his beer in the hand and gestures down to the table where another waits for Bucky. Bucky lifts a hand in greeting and pushes his way through the people to get to the table. Sam grins as he glances at Bucky’s hair.

“Oh damn!” Sam cries. “Your hair!”

Bucky rolls his eyes and shrugs his coat off. He’d had the longer hair for a few years now, but changing it up seemed like a good idea. He grins and rubs a hand across the bare back of his neck, the bristles of his newly shortened hair pricking his fingertips. 

“It was time,” Bucky says. “Besides, between you, my mom, and my sister, I was never going to win that battle.”

“Well, you clean up nice,” Sam compliments. “Couldn’t part with the beard though, huh?”

“Not yet,” Bucky replies. He settles down on his chair and lifts his beer bottle to clink against Sam’s. 

Sam grins at someone over Bucky’s shoulder and waves. 

“Don’t be mad,” Sam says as his eyes track someone’s movements. “He got back from D.C. early and I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Bucky glances over his shoulder to see the man in question, and immediately starts to sweat. He barely remembers to flash Steve a smile before he turns back to Sam. 

“I was so not prepared for this pal,” Bucky growls. Sam’s delighted face looks like it needs a fist planted in it pretty soon.

“Okay, first of all? Stop looking like you’re thinking about killing me because I’m doing you a favor. Second, you look good, and Steve totally noticed. You have nothing to worry about.”

Bucky doesn’t get a chance to reply because Steve is now standing next to their table, hands tucked in his front pockets in a way that makes Bucky want to take him somewhere private and mess him up. 

“Hey man.” Sam reaches out and slaps Steve on the shoulder. “Take my seat, I’ll be back in a second.” He’s gone and off toward the bathrooms before Bucky realizes he’s being abandoned, but it’s not like he can follow Sam to the bathroom and leave Steve stranded at a table by himself. 

“Hey,” Bucky says, surprised his voice comes out so normal despite the nerves coursing through his system. 

“Hey Buck,” Steve replies. His smile is warm and his eyes are practically sparkling in the dumbass bar lighting. Bucky’s not sure when he went from casually knowing who Captain America was to forming a gigantic, embarrassing _thing_ for him, but he wishes he could jump back in time and punch himself in the face and tell himself not to be so stupid. 

Having a thing for someone unattainable is inadvisable, but it happens, and it’s possible to get over it. But having a thing for someone like Steve, who is kind and amazing and would’ve been so out of Bucky’s league even if he wasn’t a superhero, well— this is only going to end poorly for Bucky. 

“You cut your hair,” Steve says as he looks Bucky over, from the shortened hair to the trimmed beard to the sweater that Becca got him for his birthday. 

Bucky blushes under Steve’s attention, and wants to blame it on the heat of the bar, but he knows better.

“Yeah, it wasn’t looking so great,” Bucky says. 

“I liked it,” Steve replies, and Bucky doesn’t really know what to do with that information. “I mean — I like this too, but I liked it long.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies. Sam returns to the table then, carrying a beer for Steve. “So, Bucky Boy,” Sam asks, ignoring Bucky’s scowl at the ridiculous nickname. “How’re things going down at the rescue?”

Bucky can’t resists talking about the dogs though, and he’s halfway through his second story about the dogs digging unsanctioned holes in the run before he realizes Steve’s smiling as he watches Bucky talk. 

He blushes, but keeps talking, and eventually it turns to talking about Clint adopting Lucky, and how Dodger is doing. Sam puts down a bet that Bucky can get at least one more Avenger to adopt a dog, and Steve ups the bet to two. They don’t talk about the missions, and Bucky understands why, but he’s still curious. They talk about baseball and movies and Bucky gives Steve a few recommendations that Steve actually writes down in a little book that he takes out of his pocket.

Bucky goes to the bar to get them another round, and when he gets back to the table, Sam steps away to take a call. Bucky steals a look at Steve, like he’s been doing throughout the night — and not just because he looks like a damn dream. There’s nothing visibly wrong with him, except he still has those bags under his eyes, and Bucky can’t stand it. Sam looks well-rested and healthy, and he’s been doing just as much as Steve. Steve who has advanced healing and should barely break a sweat on Avengers missions. 

“What’s up with you?”

Bucky startles at Steve’s question, embarrassed that he’d been caught staring. 

“Nothing’s up,” he replies. 

“Then why do you keep looking at me like I’m about to fall over?” Steve leans back in his chair and his stance says he’s at ease, but his eyes are sharp where they’re watching Bucky.

Bucky opens his mouth, but doesn’t really know how to reply.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Steve says. 

“I can’t help it,” Bucky blurts. Steve’s eyes widen, but Bucky is saved from any more embarrassment by Sam’s return to the table. 

“Guys, I’m sorry. I got a call from one of my group members and I told him I’d call him back right away.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky says, even as his stomach swoops at the thought of being left alone with Steve. “We’ll be fine.”

Sam pulls each of them in for a hug and slap on the back, and then he’s gone, leaving an awkward silence in his wake. 

“Are you ready to go?” Steve asks. Bucky isn’t, really. He doesn’t want to stop hanging out with Steve, but he has to go into the rescue early tomorrow morning.

“Yeah,” he replies. He reaches for his coat, but his arm jerks without his permission and slams into the bottom of the table, making their half-finished beers rattle and almost tipping them over. Steve reaches out to stop anything from falling over and looks at Bucky with wide eyes. 

“Are you alright?”

“Fine,” Bucky replies through gritted teeth, even though he’s _not_ fine. There’s a pain coming from his metal arm, which he pretty much thought was impossible. It’s locked up and unresponsive and Bucky massages it with his other hand with no response. 

“You don’t look fine,” Steve replies.

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Bucky mutters, and Steve gives him an unimpressed look. 

“I can't help it,” Steve says, repeating Bucky’s words back at him. 

Bucky huffs out a laugh that turns into a sigh of relief when his arm finally unlocks and starts responding normally again. 

“That happen a lot?” Steve asks, watching Bucky closely. 

“Only recently,” Bucky admits. “I’m fine.” He reaches for his coat again and manages to get it on without incident. “Come on,” Steve says, standing and putting on his coat. Bucky follows suit without protestation. If his arm had stayed locked up any longer, he probably would’ve had a panic attack or something, and the whole thing has left him feeling a little rattled. 

They’re not far from the part of town they both live in, and when Steve bypasses the first subway entrance they come across, Bucky agrees with his silent decision to walk. Their shoulders brush occasionally, and Bucky wishes he was more suave, or more flirtatious — more something. 

Steve sets a relaxed pace, which is at odds with the way his shoulders are hunched against the cold. His jacket is zipped up all the way, but the vulnerable skin of his neck is still exposed to the chilly wind. 

“Hold on a second,” Bucky says. Steve stops walking and turns to him, and blinks in surprise when Bucky unwinds the scarf from around his own neck and winds it around Steve’s. 

“No, I can’t take this from you,” Steve says, and tries to take it off. Bucky stops him, their hands tangling between them when they both get a hand on the scarf. Bucky doesn’t pull away until Steve drops his hands. 

“I would’ve been fine,” Steve says. 

“You have a longer walk than me,” Bucky points out. He can’t help thinking about Steve being frozen for seventy years. Maybe Steve needs two scarves. 

Steve can’t seem to find an argument to that, so instead he asks, “Do you have any plans for Christmas? Are you going to Indiana again?”

“Nah,” Bucky replies. “My mom and sister like to come out here for Christmas and do all of the touristy things in the city.”

“That sounds nice,” Steve says, and there’s an undercurrent if wistfulness that hits Bucky right in the stomach.

“What about you?” Bucky asks, almost afraid of the answer. 

“Oh, I’ll probably be at the tower,” Steve says. “Everyone’s pretty much doing their own thing, but Natasha will be there, and maybe Wanda and Vision.”

Bucky’s relieved that Steve won’t be spending the holiday alone. Bucky can’t even imagine surviving everything that Steve has endured. 

Steve points out some houses decorations, and Bucky spends the rest of the walk listening to Steve talk about Christmas lights, feeling ridiculously happy.

*

The next morning, the good mood from his walk home with Steve has disappeared. It seems like a foot of snow has fallen overnight, and Bucky’s arm aches worse than the night before.

He drinks his coffee and stares out at the snow, wondering if he really needs to go in today, but America can’t come in until noon and Darcy is out of town, so he definitely has to go in. He showers and dresses, flexes his stubborn metal arm, and is searching for his gloves and hat when his phone dings. 

_Morning Buck :) Free this afternoon?_

Bucky stares at the emoji for a long moment before replying. 

_As long as my employee shows up. What did you have in mind?_

_Meet me here at two?_ Steve sends an address in the text, and Bucky groans a little. He doesn’t really want to go to Manhattan today, but he does want to see Steve, so the decision is pretty simple. 

_See you then,_ Bucky replies, feeling brave enough to add his own smiley face. It’s easy to get up and moving after that, knowing that as soon as he gets through the morning he gets to see Steve. 

The rescue is quiet all morning. He feeds the dogs and cleans out the pens, and America shows up for her shift right on time. He spends most of the morning convincing himself that it’s not a date, and he almost manages to calm himself down. 

It’s stopped snowing when he heads for the subway, and the journey to Manhattan is long, but uneventful. He slips his phone out of his pocket when he gets streetside and checks the address Steve sent. His metal hand stiffens as he tries to use his phone, and he lets loose a little growl of frustration. He’s going to have to bite the bullet and see someone about it. 

Bucky is walking in the shadow of the Avengers tower for a few minutes before he realizes that the tower is exactly where he’s heading. He’s barely come to a stop in front of the glass doors when Steve pushes through them and waves to him. 

“We’re hanging out at the Avengers tower?” Bucky asks as Steve leads him into the building and right past security. “Is this even allowed?”

“This is where a lot of the team lives if they want to, but not really where we discuss missions,” Steve explains. He has to scan his palm when he gets into the elevator, and selects one of the highest floors allowed. 

“But you live in Brooklyn,” Bucky replies dumbly. Steve grins. 

“There is nothing that could convince me to live here,” Steve admits. “Too much noise on a good day, but it’s especially hard to deal with after a mission.”

“So you just hang out here?” 

“Sometimes,” Steve replies. The elevator slows and dings open, and Bucky follows Steve as he steps out and heads down a long hallway. Everything here is so sleek and shiny, but Bucky realizes one of the walls is made of glass. Bucky can see a lab inside, complete with robots, messy lab tables, and a crazy scientist. 

“Is that—” Bucky starts to ask, but then realizes, yeah, it is Iron Man waving at the two of them through the glass. Steve waves back and scans them into the lab area. 

Tony Stark sets his tools down, says something to one of the robots circling him, and then the music that had been thumping around them quiets to a dull roar as he approaches Bucky and Steve. 

“Tony, this is Bucky Barnes,” Steve says. “Bucky, Tony Stark.”

“Nice to meet you Sergeant,” Tony says, shaking Bucky’s hand firmly. 

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bucky responds, even though he’s confused as hell as to why Steve brought him here. Bucky never expected to meet the Avengers he already has, let alone even more of them. 

“Steve says you’re having issues with your arm?”

And that’s how Bucky finds himself seated in Tony Stark’s lab, as the man himself tinkers around the inside of the arm that he built. 

“How long have you had this?” Tony asks, poking a tool down into the wiring of the arm. Bucky wouldn’t even know how to open the secret hatch that Tony popped open with no hesitation. 

“About three years.”

“It’s in really good shape,” Tony says. 

“Uh, thanks,” Bucky replies.

“Stop that,” Tony says, and Bucky is thrown for a moment before Tony clarifies, “Not you, him.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder to see a huge robot arm offering him a glass of water. He takes it and watches in amusement as the robot speeds back across the lab. 

“Thank you,” he calls after him.

“Don’t encourage him,” Tony says, but he sounds pleased to Bucky’s ears. 

Tony keeps up a stream of conversation as he works, alternating between pestering Bucky with questions to asking him to try different things with his arm before diving back in and tinkering with something else. Steve, who had disappeared not long after Bucky sat down, appears in the hallway. He’s not alone, and Bucky grin when he sees Clint. They both scan into the lab, and preceding them are Dodger and Lucky, tails wagging furiously at all of the shiny, off-limits gadgetry around them. 

“No!” Tony cries. “What’s my one rule?”

“No four-legged creatures in the lab?” Clint smirks. “I don’t see any, do you?” He lets out a sharp whistle and Lucky abandons whatever he’s investigating and rears back on two legs, taking a few steps on just his hind legs before dropping back down and running to Clint for a treat. 

Bucky is shaking with laughter as Tony grumbles and gripes. “That’s impressive, but not impressive enough,” he says. 

“We’re just here for Bucky,” Steve says. “And we’re making lunch downstairs if you want to eat.”

“Thanks. I’ll be down in a little bit,” Tony replies. He closes the compartment on Bucky’s arm and leans back. “Should be good to go, Barnes.”

Bucky stretches out his arm and twists it this way and that, watching the light reflect off the metal and not feeling any pain. 

“Thank you,” Bucky says to Tony, shaking his hand firmly. 

“You’re welcome,” Tony replies. “You should come by every six months or so, and I can tune it up before you ever experience any pain.”

“I will,” Bucky promises. 

“How recently did it start?” Tony asks, scientific curiosity glinting in his eyes. Bucky eyes Steve and Clint, who are watching their dogs play toy of war with the big robot arm. Satisfied they’re not listening, Bucky admits, “About six months ago.”

Tony grimaces and Bucky shrugs. “It was just little twinges at first, and I didn’t really think anything of it. But it’s been worse lately and I was starting to lose control of it, and that’s when I really started to worry.”

“Well, let me know if you have any problems,” Tony says. “I can even make you a new and improved arm if that’s something you’re interested in.”

“I’m good, but thank you. Seriously.”

Tony waves away his thanks, clearly uncomfortable with the gratitude, and Bucky lets him be. He joins Steve and Clint, and together with the dogs they get back on the elevator and ride a few floors down. It opens up directly into an open floor plan, and the dogs take off, romping around the room. Clint heads for the kitchen.

Steve, who had been quiet on the ride down, says, “You didn’t tell me.”

“Tell you what?” Bucky asks, confused. 

“That your arm has been giving you trouble for that long,” Steve clarifies. “You knew I worked with Tony. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Honestly, Steve? The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.” Bucky frowns. “Besides, even if it had, there’s no way I would’ve asked you to get his help.”

“Why not? We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Exactly,” Bucky replies. “You said I was one of the only people to treat you like Steve Rogers first. Would you still say that if I’d used our friendship in that way?”

Steve doesn’t reply, but Bucky can tell by his silence that he agrees. 

“Thank you, though,” Bucky says. “For realizing what a stubborn ass I am and getting me the help I needed anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” Steve replies. 

There’s a moment where they’re just standing there, smiling at each other, and all Bucky wants to do is step closer and wrap his arms around Steve in a hug, even in front of all of Steve’s teammates. It’s been a long time since someone besides his family and Sam has cared about him in this way, and that realization is burrowing its way into Bucky’s heart. 

“Yo, Barnes!” Sam calls as he appears in the kitchen. “Who let your ass past security?” 

“Same person who lets your dumb ass walk by everyday,” Bucky snarks back. 

The moment shattered, Bucky and Steve head to the kitchen for lunch, but Bucky knows his brain will be stuck on those few seconds for a long time to come. There are two women standing at the counter, one cutting cornbread into squares and the other efficiently grating cheese. A man with purple and red skin is standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot. They all turn at the sound of Bucky’s voice.

“Would you like some chili?” the man asks. Clint, half in the fridge, rocks back on his heels and shakes his head vehemently at Bucky where the man can’t see. The redheaded woman throws a chunk of cheese at him.

“Of course,” Bucky replies. The man’s eyes light up, the yellow gem in his forehead glinting, and he grabs a bowl to dish out a hearty serving. Bucky takes the proffered bowl with a smile. “Thanks. I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“I know who you are, Sergeant Barnes,” the man says. “My name is Vision.”

“I’m Wanda,” the younger woman says, holding the cornbread up and letting go. Bucky opens his mouth in concern, but the cornbread starts to float over to the table by itself. Bucky looks from the cornbread to the small smile on Wanda’s face, and thinks that the Scarlet Witch isn’t half as scary as the media paints her to be.

“I’m Natasha,” the redhead says. She scans Bucky with an assessing look. “You should train with us sometime.”

“Nat.” Steve admonishes. “Leave him alone.”

“What?” Natasha asks. “He was military. It never hurts to keep your skills honed.”

“I’m not sure, but thanks for the offer.” It’s been three years since Bucky has had any intense physical training other than running and strength exercises. He never intended to re-enlist in the Army, if they would even have him, so there wasn’t really a need to keep up on his military training. He’s dealing with his scars — physical and psychological — on a daily basis and is trying to heal as best he can. He’s not sure gearing himself up for some future fight is the best thing for him.

Then again, if the events of the last five years have taught Bucky anything, it’s that the world is an extremely dangerous place to live at times, and it might be better to be able to protect himself against these new threats.

Steve’s teammates are jostling around him and chattering as they get their food and get settled at the table. Bucky startles when Sam is suddenly right next to him.

“You alright?” Sam asks, voice in full therapist mode. 

“I’m okay,” Bucky replies, but he feels a little shaky. Shit, talking about training shouldn’t be doing this to him, but between the trouble with his arm and the long hours at work, he’s feeling a little more fragile than normal.

“You’ve been seeing your therapist right?”

“Every week,” Bucky promises. His therapist is awesome, and even on the bad days when Bucky doesn’t feel like doing, he drags himself to her office anyway. “I’m really fine. Just tired.”

Sam squints like he doesn’t believe Bucky, but backs off, taking his food to the table. Bucky follows and claims the empty spot next to him, across from Steve. Steve shoots him a questioning look that Bucky shrugs off, and then Clint and Natasha’s voices raise from the other end of the table, Natasha holds her spoon out threateningly, and Bucky pushes away his unwanted thought, letting his rough edges be soothed by the sounds of a team.

The chili really is terrible.

*

“Bucky!” 

That’s all the warning Bucky gets before his arms are full of his energetic sister, somehow not exhausted by a day of travel. Their mom approaches in a more sedate manner, but her arms are tight around Bucky when she hugs him. He was just home a few weeks ago, but they’re clinging to him like it’s been months since they’ve seen him.

He listens to them chatter as they walk to the car and get stuck in traffic despite their best attempts at planning otherwise. He has to interject that yes, he still has to work while they’re here, and no, he didn’t get a Christmas tree without them.

Bucky has just gotten their suitcases through the front door when his phone buzzes in his pocket. His mom and sister are roaming the apartment and commenting on what has changed since the last time either of them visited, so they don’t notice his distraction.

_Are you hungry for pizza?_

Steve must be back in town, and Bucky’s heart leaps at the fact that he’s asking Bucky to hang out, but then his mom opens his fridge and starts exclaiming at the sight of it, and his heart drops just as fast.

_Always, but I can’t tonight. My family just got into town. Raincheck?_

There’s a little bit of a delay, and while Bucky is standing there staring at his phone like an idiot, his mom asks him, “Why does your face look like that?” at the same time Becca crows from the kitchen, “Whose phone number is this?”

Becca is holding the note from Steve aloft, where she’d taken it out from under its magnet on the fridge. Bucky looks from the note, to Becca’s gleeful face, and back down to his phone where Steve has replied, _Of course :)._

“I can explain.”

Becca and his mom’s eyes light up simultaneously. 

*

A few days before Christmas, Bucky’s flipping pancakes and listening to Becca’s plan of attack for the city for the day while their mom finishes getting ready. His phone vibrates with a text on the table and he sets down the spatula to grab it, but Becca is faster.

“It’s Captain America,” she announces, much like she’s been doing for the past few days. “Oh, is this where Captain America sits when he comes over?” She’d asked when she sat in the armchair, and when she’d been looking for a coffee mug, she’d asked, “Which one is Captain America’s favorite?” Bucky can’t help but laugh at her antics, though he hopes that when she meets Steve, she won’t be so embarassing. 

_If_ she meets Steve, Bucky reminds himself. There’s really no reason for Steve to ever meet his family. He’s Sam’s work friend, and a fucking superhero who doesn’t really have the spare time to meet a random acquaintance’s family.

Bucky holds out his hand for his phone, which Becca hands over with a pout.

Bucky frowns when he reads the text from Steve. The rescue is covered by his staff for the day, and he was supposed to go to Rockefeller Center and walk around the city with his mom and sister today. He doesn’t want to ditch his family who he rarely sees, but he also desperately wants to see Steve, if only for a few minutes.

“Bad news?” Becca asks, inching forward and trying to peek at Bucky’s phone. He puts it in his pocket, safe from her nosy hands and eyes, and turns back to the pancakes.

“He’s leaving for a mission later today,” Bucky says, frowning down at the pan. It’s almost Christmas, but Bucky supposes evil doesn’t take a holiday.

“Oh,” Becca says. “So do you want to meet us later? Or will we just see you back at the apartment tonight?”

“What?” Bucky flips the pancakes and turns to look at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, you’re gonna go say goodbye and Merry Christmas, aren’t you?”

Bucky feels embarrassed that he’s so transparent, but his sister always seems to know what he’s thinking. “I don’t want to just leave you guys alone.”

“Please,” Becca scoffs. “This isn’t our first time here, and you see all this shit everyday. Don’t tell me you were dying to follow us around the crowded, slushy city.”

Bucky was kind of dreading it, actually, but he can sacrifice a little of his comfort for his family. 

“Bucky. Just go.”

Bucky’s out the door five minutes later.

*

As Bucky is pressing the button to buzz Steve’s apartment, he wonders if he should’ve texted or called to ask if it was okay to come over. He never even replied to the original text Steve sent.

“Yes?” 

“Steve. It’s me.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, pleased that Steve recognizes his voice even through the shitty speaker system. “Can I come up. It’s fuckin’ freezing out here.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” 

The door buzzes open and Bucky is inside seconds later, blowing on the fingers that can still feel the cold and takes the stairs two at a time. There’s a restless energy buzzing beneath his skin, and Bucky can’t pinpoint the cause. Steve has his door open by the time Bucky gets up there, leaning on the frame with one leg keeping Dodger from running into the hallway.

Steve looks worried. “Is everything okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course it is,” Bucky replies, coming to a stop an arm’s length away from Steve.

“I thought you’d be with your family,” Steve says, letting Bucky past him into the apartment and shutting the door behind them. Bucky bends obediently for dog kisses, and pets Dodger’s soft ears.

“They can survive without me for today,” Bucky says, and with his face hidden safely in Dodger’s fur, he says, “Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.” Steve’s socked feet move closer. “Bucky. I’m only going to be gone for a few days.”

Bucky sits back on his heels and looks up at Steve. It’s a dangerous angle for Bucky to be seeing Steve at, and he straightens hurriedly. 

“Sometimes these things take longer than they should,” Bucky says. “Remember the mission right after Halloween? You said three days that time, and it turned out to be a week and a half.”

“I didn’t know you were so worried,” Steve says quietly. 

Bucky looks away and swallows roughly. “Well, yeah. Get used to it, I guess.” 

For a moment all Bucky can hear is the sound of their breathing — and Dodger’s panting — and then he says, “Oh! Merry Christmas!” and then, “Shit.”

“What is it?” 

“I totally don’t have a Christmas present for you,” Bucky says, horrified at himself and his thoughtlessness. He’s been looking for weeks, but couldn’t find anything that he wanted to give to Steve, and now he’s gone and shown up a few days before Christmas without anything.

“Bucky, it’s fine,” Steve says with a small smile. “I’m not really a gift person, anyway. We never had the money for it growing up.”

“Damn, that’s…” Bucky trails off.

“Depressing?” Steve finishes, and shrugs at Bucky’s grimace. “You can call it what it was, but it made me appreciate other things more. Like the people I care about, and the memories I make with them.”

Bucky feels extremely warm all of a sudden, and he looks at Steve and wants to kiss him. It’s inconvenient, because his therapist and his mom and his sister all tell him he needs to make more friends, and he does, but then he starts to fall for them. It’s also inconvenient because Steve is Captain America, and while he is just Steve to Bucky most days, Captain America isn’t going to choose to be with someone like Bucky. Hell, Bucky’s surprised that he can even call himself Captain America’s friend in the first place.

“Well, what kind of memory do you want to make today?” Bucky asks, and he’s not blushing goddamnit, because he’s a grown man, and a war veteran, and not embarrassed at his question that was supposed to sound innocent, but came out suggestive.

Steve smiles and looks at him, and then down at Dodger, who has procured a disgusting tennis ball from somewhere, and is looking up at the two of them hopefully.

“Do you want to take Dodger for a walk with me?” Steve asks. “And then maybe coffee, or something? I don’t have much time before I have to be at headquarters.”

“A walk and coffee sounds perfect,” Bucky replies.

It’s still bitterly cold outside, but the sun is out and warm on Bucky’s face as they walk from Steve’s place to the park nearby. Steve waves to people as they walk, who either have no idea that they live next door to Captain America, or who have gotten over the fact pretty quickly. Dodger stops and sniffs everything, pees on every lamp post, and is pretty much the most energetic dog Bucky has ever encountered, and he meets new dogs every day.

“Vision is trying another chili recipe,” Steve says with a grin. They’ve reached the dog park and let Dodger off his leash, and Bucky is busy brushing snow off a nearby bench with his metal hand. 

“Oh,” Bucky says, and politely refrains from saying anything else.

“He wanted me to invite you over to try it, since you liked the last batch so much.”

Bucky clears his throat. “That’s nice of him.”

“Bucky,” Steve says, voice warm and amused. “I’m messing with you.” Bucky looks at him, aghast, and sees that Steve is smiling wide and barely keeping his chuckles in.

“Oh thank god,” Bucky says with a sigh of relief. “He used so much hot sauce, Steve! I think I had heartburn for a week!”

“He doesn’t have any taste buds,” Steve points out. “He’s trying his best.”

Bucky shakes his head and digs his phone out of his pocket, checking the text that just came in.

_Getting ready to head out. See you for dinner?_

“Do you have to go?”

Bucky shakes his head. “It’s just my sister. They’re about to head out, but I’ll see them when they get home tonight.”

“Do you think they’d want to get coffee with us?”

Bucky’s jaw drops a little. “You— You want to meet my family?”

“Yes,” Steve replies. He frowns at the look on Bucky’s face. “Is that okay?”

Bucky blinks and shakes himself out of his shock. “Is that— Yes! That is more than okay, I just—” Steve waits him out while he fumbles for the words. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

“Of course I want to meet them. They’re your family,” Steve says, like he hasn’t just thrown Bucky completely off-kilter. He furiously reminds himself that Steve is far out of his league, and nods shakily. 

Becca is going to lose her mind.

*

Bucky is getting tired of the snow, and the constant press of people. He knows he’s feeling depressed and on edge because he dropped his family off at the airport this morning, but somehow knowing the cause of it doesn’t help alleviate it.

Darcy, who got back into town yesterday, takes one look at Bucky’s stormy face and says, “Oh damn.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky replies curtly. “I’m taking the dogs for a walk.”

Bucky takes them out in groups, not taking Darcy up on her offer to switch off. He needs to be outside and moving right now, because if he’s focused on keeping the dogs in line, he won’t think about his empty apartment, or his nightmares, or Steve.

He’d always felt a bit anxious about the Avengers missions, once he knew Sam was involved, and when he started to become friends with Steve. But now he knows even more of the Avengers — they’ve helped him and cooked for him and adopted dogs from him — and it’s hard to worry about an entire group of people at once.

Bucky reminds himself that they’re all highly skilled, and deadly, and they’ve been doing this for years. Even though none of them talk about the missions with him, the frequency of the trips combined with the short duration lets Bucky know they’re searching for something, though he has no idea what. A little voice in the back of his head tells him he could help them find it, but he squashes it down. That part of his life is over. He has a job he loves with hard-working employees, a family who he should visit more often, and friends — who, when they aren’t saving the world — are just normal people who are a hell of a lot of fun to be around.

He tips his head into the sunshine, breathes in the cold air, and feels a little more at peace.

When he gets back to the rescue, Darcy has her coat in hand. 

“I’ll be right back,” she says. Bucky waves her off and puts the last group of dogs back in their kennels. Darcy had swept and mopped while Bucky had them out on their walk, so Bucky gathers their old bedding and replaces it with fresh linens. The old bedding goes straight into the large hamper to be taken to the laundromat, and pretty soon, by the amount of things in there.

Darcy comes back just as Bucky is replacing the last bed, two coffees held tight in her grip.

“It’s starting to snow again,” she informs him as she kicks the door shut behind her. “Sunshine all morning while you’re walking the dogs, and then the second I go out, it turns shitty.”

She leaves the coffee with Bucky at the front counter and disappears into the back, reappearing without her coat and holding a Tupperware container. 

“My mom made a ton of these when I was home.” Darcy cracks the lid and offers it to Bucky. They sit for a little bit, drinking coffee and munching on kringla, before Darcy launches her attack.

“Feeling better?”

Bucky shoots her a dirty look. “I’m fine.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow at him. “Sure.”

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind, that’s all,” Bucky says. “I didn’t mean to be grumpy this morning.”

“Worried about Captain Steve?”

Bucky sighs, but can’t find the energy to come up with a protest, so he just says, “That obvious?”

Darcy looks surprised and pleased that she’s getting exactly what she wants. “So obvious,” she says. 

“They know what they’re doing,” Bucky says, mainly to convince himself. Darcy nods along. “They’re highly trained, and they’ll be back in a few days.”

“Of course they will,” Darcy replies. “But worrying about them coming back safe isn’t the only thing that made you grumpy, is it?”

Bucky looks at her in confusion. Worrying about the Avengers has taken up pretty much all of his brain space the past few days.

“What are you talking about?” 

“You miss him.”

“Okay, we’re done talking about this.” Bucky pitches his empty coffee cup and walks past Darcy, heading for the back. There’s stock to be checked in and laundry to do.

“He looks at you the same way you look at him,” Darcy says, and Bucky stops in his tracks.

“That’s impossible,” he says without turning around.

“It’s really not,” Darcy replies, her voice uncharacteristically soft. “Trust me. I’m really good at observing.”

Bucky turns around and sees the look on Darcy’s face, and knows she really believes it. 

“Even if you’re right, it would never happen,” Bucky says. “He’s— He’s _Captain America,_ alright? He’s too good for me.”

“And if he was just Steve?”

“Still too good for me,” Bucky replies shortly. “I’m—”

_I’m no good,_ he stops himself from saying, even though he believes it. His therapist has told him time and time again that it’s not true, but Bucky still has a hard time convincing himself of it. He’s got too much baggage.

“Bucky—” Darcy starts, but quiets when Bucky shakes his head.

“I think the dogs are hungry,” Bucky says, and slips into the storeroom. All of the peace of mind he’d gotten from the morning walks is gone now, and he’s never looked forward to checking inventory lists more than he is right now. 

*

The Avengers don’t get back until after New Years. Bucky spends the holiday holed up in his apartment feeling a little sorry for himself, but not really in the mood for company either. He talks to his family at midnight, and crawls into bed not long after, not expecting to get a lot of sleep.

His nightmares have been getting worse. Bucky knows part of the reason is the fear and worry he feels for his friends, but as the calendar creeps toward the end of January, Bucky has something else to blame.

The anniversary of the bombing that took Bucky’s arm and two of his team members will always be a date that Bucky remembers, as much as he’d like to forget. His nightmares are full of sand and heat and burning flesh, and no matter how many runs he goes on, or how much he tries to distract himself with the dogs, Bucky just can’t shake the lingering dread that follows him into his waking hours.

Bucky is exhausted, and withdrawn, and he knows that it’s noticeable. His therapist encourages him to start coming to group sessions, Darcy brings him an extra sweet coffee every morning, and Sam has been checking in more and more frequently with calls and texts. Clint sends him pictures of Lucky almost every day, there’s an unanswered dinner invitation from Vision sitting in his inbox, and when Bucky gets a text from Steve asking him to hang out, Bucky ignores it and calls Sam instead.

“Are you telling your team to check up on me?” Bucky asks when Sam answers.

“Hello to you too,” Sam says sarcastically. “And what? No. I haven’t.”

“Why are they all texting me then?” Bucky asks. He doesn’t need Sam’s help making friends, and he doesn’t need people constantly checking up on him. He knows he’s not exactly fine right now, but it’s his own shit to deal with and that’s what he’s doing.

“Maybe because they like you and want to be your friend?” Sam sighs. “There’s no ulterior motive here, Bucky, and no secret agenda. You just haven’t been around much lately and they noticed.”

“Oh.” Bucky replies, feeling dumb. 

“You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, right?”

Bucky opens his mouth to say, ‘I’m fine,’ but what comes out is, “Yeah.” It’s halfway an admission that he might not be fine, and more than Bucky usually lets slip, but he can’t take it back. He doesn’t want to take it back. He’s just really fucking _tired_ and he wants to know when he’s going to finally feel better.

“Alright, good,” Sam replies. “Now text Steve back so he stops looking so sad. When I walk back in there he better be looking happier.”

“Is he sad?”

“You’ve kind of been avoiding him,” Sam replies.

“I’ve been avoiding everyone,” Bucky admits, which isn’t better, but he doesn’t want Steve to think it’s his fault. This is completely Bucky’s doing.

“Well yeah,” Same says. “But even the simplest explanations can be twisted into something untrue if you think about it enough. You know that.”

“I do,” Bucky replies, thinking about how his brain tricks him into thinking he’s back in the war, or that he’s lost his arm again. “Brains suck.”

“That they do,” Sam says with a chuckle. “I’ll talk to you later, and call me if you need me.”

“Will do,” Bucky promises and hangs up. He feels a little lighter now, and replies to Steve’s text immediately. He sits and stares at the phone, waiting for Steve’s reply and dreading getting up and going somewhere. When Steve suggests ordering a pizza and watching a movie, a wave of relief crashes over Bucky, and he tells Steve to come over before hastily picking up some things around the apartment. 

Even with superhuman speed, it takes Steve a little while to get from the tower to Bucky’s apartment using normal, human transportation. Bucky can smell the pizza before he even opens the door, but he forgets all about his hunger when he sees Steve for the first time since before the New Year. There’s something about him that makes Bucky’s greeting catch in his throat, but he can’t pinpoint it.

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says. A jingle of chains draws Bucky’s attention down to Dodger, who is sitting at Steve’s feet patiently. “Is it alright that I brought him? I had him at the tower with me, but I can always run him home—”

“No, no,” Bucky says, grabbing Dodger’s leash from Steve and practically dragging him inside. “He’s always welcome here. You both are.”

Steve smiles brightly at that, and that’s when Bucky realizes what’s different. For the first time since Bucky met him, Steve looks...well rested. The bags under his eyes are finally gone, and shit, his skin is practically _glowing._

“You look good,” Bucky says before he can stop himself, and Steve’s smile grows even brighter.

“So do you,” Steve replies, which Bucky knows is a damn lie.

“I know I look like shit,” Bucky replies.

Steve doesn’t disagree, but his smile dims into something more gentle. “It’s good to see you, Buck.”

Bucky’s stomach twists around with the way Steve’s voice sounds when he says Bucky’s name, and he goes into the kitchen for plates before he embarrasses himself by knocking the box out of Steve’s hands and kissing him right on the mouth. He agrees to whatever movie Steve suggests without hearing the title, and busies himself getting plates and drinks.

“This is one of my favorites,” Bucky says, setting the plates down on the coffee table and getting ready to weep at George Bailey’s life.

“I know,” Steve replies. 

Bucky looks up at him, and the way Steve is looking at him makes Bucky think that maybe Darcy isn’t crazy after all. Maybe Bucky’s excuse is just that — an excuse. A way for Bucky to protect himself and block himself off from anything that might hurt him, but also shutting out all of the great things that might happen in the process.

Dodger ruins the moment by putting his paw on the couch and swiping his slobbery tongue across Bucky’s cheek. Bucky is startled out of his eye contact with Steve, and it’s not like he can ever be mad at doggie kisses, but the interruption smacks him back to reality. He hands a plate over to Steve without looking at him and focuses on the movie. 

Bucky does his best to stay awake for the whole movie, but he really is exhausted, and he falls asleep tucked into one corner of the couch, Steve sitting too far away at the other end of the couch, with Dodger curled up between them.

*

_Bucky’s entire body is on fire._

_It filters back in pieces._

_Explosions. Sand. Fire. Pain. Something smells terrible. Something’s wet against his skin. He reaches out — more pain —_

_Pain. Pain. Pain._

_He calls out. No answer._

_Then he hears—_

_Bucky—_

_Bucky, bucky, bucky—_

“ _—Bucky,_ ” they cry. “It’s _me._ It’s Steve.”

Bucky blinks opens his eyes, and the heat is gone. The sand is gone. There’s not even any pain anymore. There’s just his apartment, and Dodger growling, and Steve gasping for breath in front of him. Bucky registers what’s happening with growing horror: Steve, pinned against the wall by Bucky, the metal of Bucky’s metal hand wrapped around his throat. Steve’s hands are wrapped around Bucky’s wrist, trying to pull Bucky’s hand away from where it’s cutting off Steve’s airway.

Bucky reels back from Steve so fast that he knocks into the table behind him, sending the lamp on top of it crashing to the ground. The light bulb shatters, making the only source of light in the room the glow from the TV. Bucky stares at Steve in horror. Steve’s face is thrown half in shadow, but Bucky can the widening of his eyes as he looks at Bucky.

“Fuck,” Bucky spits. “Jesus _fuck—_ ”

“Bucky—” Steve reaches out for him and Bucky steps back further, putting more distance between them. 

“Don’t—” Bucky holds out his hands to stop Steve from coming closer. His fucking hands that _hurt Steve._ Disgust rises in his throat and it’s so overwhelming that he thinks he might be sick. He keeps backing up until his back hits the far wall, and he slides down, stipping his head into his hands. 

“Can you please go?” Bucky rasps. 

“I don’t want to leave you alone,” Steve says. 

“I can’t—” Bucky swallows, his throat feelings like it’s closing up. “I can’t have you here.”

There’s silence from Steve, and Bucky registers that that probably hurt Steve as much as choking him, but he can’t have Steve here. He _can’t._ Of all people, he can’t hurt Steve.

Steve—

“I’m going to call Sam,” Steve says quietly. “And I’ll wait outside until he gets here. If you need me, I’ll be out there.”

Bucky grunts in affirmation, anything to get Steve out of the apartment quickly. He doesn’t deserve the gentle way that Steve is treating him. 

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and _what._ Bucky whips his head up and finally looks at Steve again. 

“What the fuck are you apologizing for?” 

“You were having a nightmare and I grabbed you,” Steve says. He looks upset and disgusted — with _himself,_ Bucky realizes. “That was the worst thing I could’ve done.”

Bucky’s thoughts whirl. He’s the one who should be apologizing to Steve, not the other way around. But the words aren’t coming out, and it’s taking everything he has to hold himself together right now. And now Steve is leaving, which is what Bucky wanted, but he has to tell Steve that it’s not his fault, he doesn’t blame him—

“Buck?” 

Bucky blinks and looks to the doorway where Sam is standing, worried look on his face. When had Sam gotten here? Steve was just getting ready to walk out the door…

He lost time. Of course he did. 

“Oh, buddy,” Sam sighs, and lets himself fully into the apartment. “It’s okay. I got you.”

Bucky’s not sure if he believes him. He’s never felt more untethered. 

*

The next week fucking sucks. Bucky wishes he could come up with better words for it, but it just blows. The weather turns shitty and drops below freezing and stays there, and there’s the lingering threat of snow on the horizon. It makes Bucky feel even more miserable, but he thinks it’s what he deserves. 

Sam stays in constant contact. He doesn’t sleep over, because Bucky practically kicks him out of the apartment once he’s back in his right headspace. He feels embarrassed and ashamed, and he doesn’t want anyone to see him like this. 

Going to work and keeping busy and playing with the dogs helps. Chatting aimlessly with Darcy about whatever topic she’s into for the week also helps. Besides Sam, Darcy is the one person he can’t actively avoid without closing the shelter, which he can’t do. He appreciates her tactful ways though, because he definitely notices how the Avengers stories have died down, and the lack of conspiracy theories. 

But he keeps avoiding everyone else. He knows it’s not healthy and he knows they’re worried, but he just needs a little time and space. He does go to see his therapist, and he goes to another group session that Sam told him about. He knows the steps he has to take and he does them — talking about his incident, and his past, and how shitty he feels. It just doesn’t help as much this time around, and he knows why. 

He has to talk to Steve. 

He can’t even remember if he apologized to Steve that night. He remembers Steve apologizing to him, which is still so fucked up, but did Bucky even say it back? 

“Can I give you some advice?”

Bucky sighs and drags his mug of coffee closer to him. He’s actually wanted to get out the apartment today, so he called Sam to get some coffee. 

“You’re going to anyway,” Bucky grumbles. 

“You should talk to Steve,” Sam suggest. “I’m not saying you have to, but I think it’ll do you both some good to talk about what happened. He hasn’t been great either.”

“That’s what I don’t understand,” Bucky says. “Why is he so torn up about it? I’m the one with the fucked up head who can’t tell the difference between a nightmare and reality. I _attacked_ him, Sam.”

“Hey,” Sam’s voice is sharp. “First of all, you’re not fucked up. You’re healing, and it’s messy sometimes, but that’s just part of it.”

“Am I though?” Bucky asks. “I don’t feel like I’m healing. Sometimes I feel like I’m getting worse.”

“It’s a process,” Sam replies. “And I know the sounds hokey, but it’s the truth. You can’t force it and you can’t get discouraged because of a setback.”

Bucky frowns and swirls his coffee around in its mug. “What’s the second of all?”

Sam chuckles. “Second, you think Steve doesn’t deal with this shit too? That I don’t deal with this shit? We get it. We understand. And we’re here for you.” Sam sighs. “There’s a third thing too. Steve feels like shit because he definitely should’ve known better. He shouldn’t have grabbed you when you were panicking like that, and he knows it. He blames himself for this mess more than he blames you. He thinks you’re upset with him and he doesn’t blame you.”

“That’s fucking stupid,” Bucky growls. 

“Hence why you should talk to him,” Sam says. “How is he supposed to know? I’ve told him the same things, but it’s not the same coming from me.”

Bucky sighs and looks out the window to avoid Sam’s gaze. He knows Sam is right, but that doesn’t make what he has to do any easier. 

“We’re all supposed to be at the tower tonight,” Sam says. Bucky knows what he’s supposed to do with this information, so he just nods. 

*

Bucky has to go back to work after talking to Sam, but he’s distracted by thoughts of Steve the entire afternoon. It’s almost time to close up for the night when Darcy waves her hand in front of his face, jerking him out of this thoughts. 

“Yo, boss,” she says. “You in there?”

“What?” He steps back from her flailing hand. “Yeah, what is it?”

“You’ve been staring at that kennel for the last ten minutes,” Darcy says. “There isn’t even a dog in it.” 

Bucky frowns at the empty kennel. It’s the one that used to hold Dodger when he was still at the rescue. 

“I’m going to take off early,” Bucky says. “Are you okay to close up on your own?” 

“Yeah, of course.”

Bucky’s almost gone when Darcy says, “Good luck.”

Bucky throws a questioning look over his shoulder, wondering if he’s really that obvious. Darcy gives him a knowing smile. 

“Thanks,” Bucky says, and hesitates before he steps outside. He strides back across the room and pulls Darcy into a hug. She squeaks a little in surprise before wrapping her arms around Bucky in a firm hold. 

“You’re the best, Darce,” Bucky says. 

“Ah, that it so nice to hear,” Darcy replies jokingly. Bucky laughs and ruffles her hair as he steps back. He leaves her in the rescue with a scowl on her face, but he’s grinning as he sets off for the subway. 

Bucky’s always hated the long-ass ride to get to anywhere he wants to be in Manhattan, and today is no different. As usual, he doesn’t last the entire ride and gets off a few stops earlier than he’s supposed to. It’s almost fully dark when he emerges on the street, and it’s really too cold to be doing this, but Bucky needs the fresh air. 

He sees the Avengers tower long before he even gets close to it, and he almost turns around more times than he can count. He has to give himself a pep talk right before he hits the buzzer, and the nerves swirl in his stomach as he waits for a response. 

“ _Hello, Sergeant Barnes,_ ” Jarvis’ voice comes through the speaker. “ _What can I do you for you this evening?_ ”

“Is it alright if I come up?” Bucky asks. “I have to talk to Steve.” 

“ _Captain Rogers isn’t here at the moment,_ ” Jarvis replies. “ _In fact, none of the Avengers are currently on the premises._ ”

Bucky curses and steps away from the panel. Sam had said they’d be here tonight, but they must’ve gotten called away on another mission. He closes his eyes, sick with the now-usual worry that something will happen to them when they’re gone — that something will happen to Steve — and it makes him a little dizzy. The idea that their last encounter has the possibility to be their last makes Bucky want to punch something. He tries to banish that thought from his head, but now that it’s there, it doesn’t want to leave. 

“Bucky?”

Bucky whips around at the sound of Steve’s voice. He’s approaching with the rest of the Avengers, all of them holding bags of takeout. 

“Jarvis said you guys weren’t here,” Bucky says. “I thought you left on a mission.”

“No, we just wanted dinner, but we couldn’t agree,” Clint says. “We’ll just, uh, go inside.” 

The rest of the Avengers file past, smiling at Bucky as they go. Bucky doesn’t deserve their happy faces, but it does lift his spirits to see that they’re happy to see him, despite him avoiding them for weeks. Sam is one of the last to walk by, and he squeezes Bucky’s shoulder as he draws close. 

“It’ll be fine, Bucky,” Sam murmurs.

“Thanks,” Bucky mutters. There’s an obvious lack of noise once the rest of their friends disappear inside, and then it’s just Bucky and Steve on the sidewalk. Bucky shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t really know how to begin, but when he finally looks up, Steve is looking back at him. 

“I’m sorry,” Bucky gets out before he can chicken out. 

Steve frowns and looks upset. “Why? What do you have to apologize for?” 

“I hurt you,” Bucky says quietly, the words dragging on this throat. “That’s the one thing I never want to do.” 

“Buck...” Steve drifts closer. “I’m not upset about that. I’m upset at myself for making it worse.”

Bucky blows out a harsh breath. “It’s always that bad,” he admits quietly. “I just can’t stand the thought of you being around and getting hurt because of it.” 

Steve sighs too. “I could say the same thing.”

Bucky crosses his arms. “Well. What the hell are we gonna do then?” 

“Well, Sam would tell us not to deny ourselves of good things just because we’re struggling,” Steve says. He gives Bucky a wry look. “I’m inclined to agree with him.”

“Are you calling me a good thing?” It comes out gruff and embarrassed, and Steve’s face lights up in delight. 

“Yeah, Buck,” Steve reaches out and squeezes Bucky’s shoulder before sliding it to the nape of his neck Bucky tips his head back instinctively and looks Steve in the eye. “You are definitely a good thing.” 

“Cheesy,” Bucky mutters. He uncrosses his arms and lets his hands drop to his sides as he leans closer into Steve’s space. Steve’s breath washes over his face, minty and warm, and Bucky smiles as he finally leans in to kiss him. His hands find Steve’s waist easily, as Steve’s hand travels up into his hair and urges him even closer. Bucky is the one to turn it less than innocent, dragging his teeth over Steve’s lower lip and causing Steve’s mouth to open up on a gasp.

“We should go inside,” Steve murmurs as they break apart to catch their breath. “I think it’s about to start snowing.” Their breaths are visible and intermingling between them, and as much as Bucky loves kissing Steve, he agrees. It’s too cold out to stay outside for much longer.

“Depends,” Bucky says. “What did you get for dinner?”

“Burgers,” Steve says. He steps back and gives Bucky a little space. He lets go of Bucky only to grab his hand and lead him toward the tower. His tongue peeks out to swipe over his bottom lip, flushed red from where Bucky had given in to the urge to bite it, and Bucky’s stomach flips. 

“A man after my own heart.” 

Steve smiles and pulls Bucky closer, and Bucky gives in to the urge to lean in and kiss Steve again. 

It’s not like everything is perfect now that they’ve had an actual conversation about this, but Bucky thinks what they can be for each other is a good thing, just like Steve said. It’ll be hard and painful at times, because they both have shit they need to work through, but when Bucky looks at Steve and his entire world seems to brighten up, that has to count for something, right? 

It won’t be easy, but it’ll be damn worth it.


End file.
